Dark Heart
by TheAnomally
Summary: Takes place after Civil War and after Infinity War. The Avengers inability to be a team first last and always; allowed their enemies to make fools of them all. Clint was once a hero and now he was labeled a criminal and locked up. Then Thanos came and took half the world in one snap, but Clint lost his whole world before that.
1. Ashes and Blood

The trial went on longer than it should have; battered, tired and torn he returned to the farm. Everything was gone; the house, the barn, everything burned to the ground. No one had said anything to him; no one had let him know, the family he had sworn to protect all gone. His so called friends, or where they just teammates, or even that? S.H.I.E.L.D was gone, the Avengers had broken up, and all he knew was gone. HYDRA had played them all for fools, and blindly without much thought they turned on each other, well except him and Black Widow. The calling card was clear, this was payback, and he knew who was to blame. How they got what should have been top secret triple locked info was clear; the breakdown of everything made them all targets for their enemies. His information down to where he lived was stolen and sold on the dark web. He couldn't go to anyone for help; he didn't want them to get hurt, and he wasn't ready to forgive any of them for what the Civil War had wrought. He went from hero to criminal; the whole thing had been a fiasco from start to finish, and all he had done was retire. It wasn't the first time Iron Man had labeled him a criminal; he wondered if Tony even remembered him back then. They were supposed to be a team, and not at each other's throats.

The darkness enveloped him, and he left his quiver and bow safely behind; this undertaking would require close combat; he wanted to see the light go out of his enemy's eyes. He would put them all down; and lift himself on a pile of their corpses. His sorrows and instincts lead him to Japan; where he met Echo, and donned the black and gold guise of Ronin. He cut through the gangs, the Triads, the World Wide Mafias, the cartels, and the Yakuza. Ending their illegal activities, by spilling their blood, and cutting out their hearts. No one knew who he was, he was feared, and he was reviled. His blades never missed vital organs, never failed to sever arteries, and never dulled. He followed the trail, trying to find the one who everyone answered too. He dispatched lowly runners, minions, soldiers, high ranking persons, and clawed his way from the roots to the branches. This conglomerate had many appendages, and he would have to cut them all off to get to the heart of it all.

Then something happened; it was like time stopped, he felt pulled apart, but then put back together. It was like waking up in a dream; a unreal realm that seemed to glow in tones of blue. His family was OK, and his friends were not fighting one another. Everything was happy and warm like an easy summer day; he was giving archery lessons to their sitter Kate Bishop, and the kids were playing nearby. He knew it wasn't real; his heart and mind knew this happy realm was just an illusion. There was no time to hide; it took effort and the blue realm became yellow and he found himself out of the Mindscape.


	2. White Widow

They had failed; half of the population had disintegrated in a blink of an eye. Thanos was too powerful; everyone lost somebody; those who remained disbursed to mourn and regroup. Natasha found herself back at Stark Tower; the building was mostly empty, she found herself wandering away from her quarters and down the hall. She stopped and went into the armory his most trusted weapon; lay on the floor right under where it is usually mounted. Natasha looked at the brackets and found that they had simply all let go. The metal and wall material were not weak; they were built to with stand a lot of mayhem and not break. She touched the bow and quiver; she did not want to believe that he was gone for good. She had been to the farm; she had seen the destruction, the reports said the entire family had perished. She knew that burning to death was pure agony, but the only adult remains found were female. She couldn't find Hawkeye anywhere; all his usual roosts were vacant, and he would never leave without his weapon. In her mind's eye she pictured him turning to dust and just floating away. She grabbed the bow and quiver rehung it in a secondary location; she locked it up tight, and went back to her room and packed up her stuff and left. On the way out of the city she bought provisions and hair dye. In many cultures white was the color of death, so she bleached her crimson locks white. She found sanctuary in various places across Europe; when asked about her hair she just simply told them it was so she would not get recognized. Just forgetting about everything that had happened was difficult; days turned into weeks, and then months. There was no news concerning Thanos and the Infinity Gauntlet, or Clint Barton. She finally got a mission, and it was a simple one, recon and intercept a vigilante that was leaving behind a bloody trail of death. The gender of the assailant was unknown; but the main weapons used were blades, no nationality known, and murdering people worldwide. Natasha recognized the names of some of the so called victims, despots, gang members, heads of human trafficking rings, and corrupt public officials. They all were branches in a big tree, the one leading all this evil was hidden, but they were more powerful than anyone could ever think. She wanted to give who ever this was a medal, but she had her orders. The last country the marauder had been in was Japan, so she suited up, and flew out there immediately. Finding this person was like trying to catch a ghost with a butterfly net; people knew of the hooded figure, but it was mostly tales and rare glimpses. She was a fantastic spy, but this person was better. A rainy evening in Tokyo she decided to try a different angle; a large faction of the Yakuza was meeting in a teahouse close by, she hung around the area. Midnight had come and gone but the city was still a neon glow of life as people passed by her heading to karaoke joints, noodle houses, and bars. She was about to call it a night when a man came crashing through the window into the street in front of her; another man tried running away, both were cut down by a sword wielding figure in black and gold. She stood stone still holding her umbrella aloft, and watched as the figure straightened up, and wiped the bloody blade on his sleeve. Widow knew by body shape that this was a man, but what she didn't know what his next move would be. No one else was coming out of the teahouse, so she surmised that all the other Yakuza were dead. He reached up and pushed his hood down; and pulled off the head piece, he slowly turned his head; she could see the sides of his head were shaved close, but the top remained in a pseudo Mohawk. Nat tensed as the man turned to face her; she was ready in case the mysterious person was to attack her. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw who it was; she wanted to run to him, but she then saw the complete devastation and darkness in his eyes and expression. She knew he had willingly added red to his ledger; this was not the Clint Barton she used to know. This was a changed man, a man who lost his heart, and maybe part of his soul. She did not want to move or touch him afraid that one or both of them would shatter into a million pieces.


	3. End?

The world seemed to slow and stop as two old friends looked at one again in the pouring rain; time was counting down on a clock no one could see, and soon it would be time to face the beginning and perhaps the very end for one last time.


End file.
